


The Littlest Werewolf goes to the White House

by persuna



Series: The smallest werewolf [1]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: pre-crooked commune I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 16:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13574697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persuna/pseuds/persuna
Summary: In no way was Jon hiding it. The fact that he was a werewolf was one of many things he had to reveal on his White House background check, and it didn’t even make his top fifty list of the most cringey, but it would be fair to say he doesn’t draw attention to it. He didn’t do… whatever the werewolf equivalent of flirting is: sniffing people, or baring his teeth, or growing his hair long and getting a full moon tattoo on his bicep.





	The Littlest Werewolf goes to the White House

**Author's Note:**

> Many moons ago (like honestly about six) Kalpurna mentioned [the concept of smallest werewolf Lovett](https://kalpurna.tumblr.com/post/163847828436/immoveableobject-replied-to-your-post#notes), and I immediately wrote about ten disconnected paragraphs that no matter what I did would not turn into one story. So I have given up and will post them as a few disconnected ficlets instead. 
> 
> I swear I am working on several things that aren’t about podcasters turning into canines. But um this isn’t it. This is about that. And eventually cuddling. I am not working on several things that aren’t about cuddling because that is literally the only point of all transformative works as far as I am concerned. Do @ me I love to talk about it.

In no way was Jon hiding it. The fact that he was a werewolf was one of many things he had to reveal on his White House background check, and it didn’t even make his top fifty list of the most cringey. He’d never lied about it to anyone who asked—that was a personal rule he was very strict with himself about—but it would be fair to say he doesn’t draw attention to it. He didn’t do… whatever the werewolf equivalent of flirting is: sniffing people, or baring his teeth, or growing his hair long and getting a full moon tattoo on his bicep. 

It was also true that Jon fit precisely none of the stereotypes that people have about werewolves. He was short and extroverted and cosmopolitan. He was not only in politics, in defiance of werewolves’ general disdain for large scale bureaucracy and any trace of government oversight, he was a Democrat. If he was thinking about what it would be like to lean into someone where their scent is strongest, to nuzzle at their neck or armpits, then he doesn’t show it. He was far more likely to be accused of being standoffish than overly tactile, and he’d been that way so long that it was irrelevant if it was nature, or habit formed by design. If his arms and thighs were stronger and thicker than the paltry amount of gym time he squeezed in deserved, people tended not to notice, because it didn’t fit their narrative of a small, messy, Jewish guy. 

All this meant that sometimes Jon was an awkwardly long way into knowing someone before they realised that he was a werewolf. 

 

Favs let out a surprisingly high pitched shriek the first time he came back early from a meeting and found a wolf sleeping in the office. Unfortunately, Jon could not fool himself that running away stayed stayed true to the spirit of his resolve never to lie about his were status, so he transformed and stepped behind Favs’ desk to get hastily re-dressed. He felt marginally less vulnerable in his naked human skin, but still like he might have screwed up his miracle job. 

“Sorry,” Jon said, immediately violating his second rule that he didn’t apologise for being a werewolf. Though apologising for being naked at work was probably advisable. “I was just having a nap. It's more comfortable that way.”

“Um,” said Favs, failing to display the eloquence that might be expected from Obama’s chief speechwriter. Jon did not make a snarky remark along those lines, even though Favs’ shock was starting to look a bit too much like horror for his liking. 

“I’m not like, contagious or anything,” he said, trying to locate the front of his pants and finding his hands surprisingly clumsy. 

“I know!” replied Favs, extremely quickly. Maybe he was one of those people who thought they were okay with werewolves, but then met one and surprised themselves by being freaked out. 

Pants conquered, the millions of fucking tiny buttons on a shirt were the next challenge. This was why suits sucked. “You knew, right? I would have said something, but I assumed that was the kind of thing they tell you about your employees.” 

“Maybe I forgot.” Favs was finally pulling himself together and sounding halfway normal. “Speaking of, I’ve got to knock out ten minutes on the future of America for tomorrow morning so…” he trailed off, gestured vaguely at his desk and sat down with his back to Jon. Maybe quarter-way normal.

 

Half an hour later Jon approached Favs’ desk, intending to ask a conciliatory question about how he might most diligently work on the energy speech that he had been planning to start in two days time. Then he got a look at Favs’ computer screen, which was displaying the results of the search "do werewolves age in dog years?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” snapped Jon, any thoughts of playing nice vanishing like bare skin under the full moon at a Lovett family reunion.

“Um,” Favs looked acutely embarrassed, but to his credit he turned to look Jon in the eye. “Well. It's just that.... you're kind of smaller than I thought a werewolf would be. I thought maybe you’d get bigger?”

“Ex-fucking-scuse me?” said Jon, with all the ice that a lifetime of his body remaining proportionately sized across both forms in a family of six foot something giants who valued physical prowess above all other virtues gave him.

Favs seemed to sense that he had blundered into a sensitive topic. This did not help him un-dig the deepening hole he found himself in. “Not in a bad way!” he said, high pitched, “In a cute way, like a puppy!” 

It was obvious that Favs regretted this phrasing as soon as the words left his mouth. Fortunately for him, despite hitting on a theme that several members of Jon’s pack had discovered shortly after puberty hit, his look of wide eyed panic was so genuine that Jon felt amusement overtake any hurt feelings.

“You didn't seem to think I was a puppy when you came in,” he said, not quite ready to let Favs off the hook, “I’m surprised security didn't come running you screamed so loudly.” 

“I wouldn't say I screamed,” said Favs, tentatively.

“Shrieked then.”

“Shouted maybe.” And they were back on even ground.

 

"Have you got a dog or something?" asked Tommy, brushing at Jon's back.

Jon twisted to look over his shoulder, and was honestly surprised at the amount of wolf hair clinging to his jacket. Perhaps his panic naps were becoming a bit too frequent. Or perhaps he should keep a blanket under his desk instead of sleeping on his suit jacket. He's not sure how anyone has ever created anything without the ability to nap on demand, and he doesn't think the first few months in a job at the freaking White House is the time for him to start trying.

Tommy was still looking at him curiously, and the answer was definitely not a secret, so it seemed like as good a time as any.

"Or something. It's, um, mine,” said Jon. His throat felt slightly tight, but Tommy just looked nonplused, so he added, "I'm a werewolf".

This only deepened Tommy’s confusion. "And you sleep on your suit?"

Ugh, Jon was surrounded by judgemental morons. “Naps stimulate creativity! As a soulless mouthpiece of the system, I guess you don't need to know that".

Tommy's laugh sounded just like it always did, and Jon was at least partially successful in forcing down an inappropriately beaming smile in response. Instead, he turned to walk back towards the offices and sniped even harder. "Did you think I might sleep on a pile of clothes in some kind of den like a wild animal? That's pretty speciesist Tommy. I'm not sure that you're doing your part to foster an inclusive working environment".

 

“You know, Tommy reacted much better than you to the reveal of my true nature,” Jon said to Favs when he got back to their office. They were close enough to joke about that kind of thing now, which Jon took advantage of shamelessly. Rather like he had leveraged Favs’ guilt at his clumsy reaction to finding out Jon was a werewolf to Jon napping at work being acceptable as long as he got dressed discretely.

“Did his reveal involve a wolf and a naked man appearing in short succession at his place of work?” asked Favs, without looking up from his computer.

“Touche.”

 

When, a few days later, Tommy hinted yet again that he was in desperate need of a roommate Jon replied, “I’m not participating in any kind of cleaning rota,” and that was that.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also [on Tumblr](http://persuna.tumblr.com/), tagging excessively.


End file.
